


Phantom Traveler Mini-Scene (Tall Tales Style)

by leonidaslion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-16
Updated: 2011-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonidaslion/pseuds/leonidaslion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silly, alterna-look at what was going through the boys' heads on the plane ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phantom Traveler Mini-Scene (Tall Tales Style)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this fic: it's supposed to be "off" characterization-wise, cause of the style, but I think Sam came out a good deal more bitchy (bitchier?) than I originally intended. Oh well, can't win them all!

The deathtrap gives another horrible convulsion and Dean’s muscles tense. Just so that he’s ready, you know, to jump up and save as many passengers as he can before the tin can shudders apart into a million pieces.

“Are you humming Metallica?” Sam demands.

And really, any other time Dean would ignore the prissy question, but he’s actually a little impressed Sam recognized the tune. “It calms me down,” he admits. Not that he’s scared or anything. He’s just a little concerned for their safety, seeing as not only are they flying through some really foul weather in an oversized lightning rod, but they also have about half an hour left before a demon goes hulk smash on the damned thing. Dean’s got a right to be worried.

“Look, man, I get you’re nervous, all right? But you’ve got to stay focused.” Sam’s talking like Dean’s some kind of retarded kid who’s afraid that the evil clown in his closet will get him. Which, coming from Sammy, is a little unfair and really damned annoying. And not helping Dean’s state of mind.

Starting an argument right now would be stupid, though, and Dean, at least, is a professional. So he only says, shortly, “Okay.”

“I mean, we’ve got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it’s possessing, anyway, and perform a full-on exorcism.” As though Dean’s forgotten all of that, or maybe never really understood it in the first place. Smug, know-it-all jerk.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, on a crowded plane, that’s gonna be easy.”

“Just take it one step at a time, all right?” Sam still sounds like he thinks Dean’s never really made it past the third-grade, or is possibly some kind of performing animal that only mimics human speech. Dean doesn’t think Sam was this condescending before he left for Stanford, so it’s one more reason to hate the damned place.

“Now, who is it possessing?” Sam prods.

And Dean’s had quite enough of his little brother’s shit, so he feeds Sam’s anal, patronizing tone right back at him. “Well, it’s usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know: a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through—somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean’s completely flipping out. And he’s been humming Metallica nonstop in Sam’s ear—off pitch and too loud—ever since the plane left the ground. If Dean gets any tenser, he’s going to bounce off the seat and into the aisle. Sam considerately reminds Dean why they’re here, keeping his voice low and soothing in an attempt to calm his brother down.

The trick works, because Sam is just that awesome, and as Dean slowly tries to work his way through the information they have, he looks a hundred times calmer. Of course, just because he’s not panicking anymore, doesn’t mean Dean’s brain is working any better than it normally does, so Sam has to point out to his brother that Amanda is their most likely suspect.

Dean immediately takes the opportunity to make a pass at a passing flight attendant with doe eyes and a nice rack—not that Sam’s noticing. “Excuse me,” Dean drawls, and even though he can’t actually _see_ his brother’s face, Sam knows that Dean’s offering her his sleaziest smile. Probably aiming to join the mile high club as soon as the demon’s taken care of.

“Are you Amanda?” Dean’s practically purring, and he’s obviously peering down the woman’s blouse.

Typically, she doesn’t seem to mind. “No, I’m not,” she says, and then waits for Dean to ask her what her name is then, or when she gets off, or if she wants him to _get_ her off, but Dean’s already distracted by another, prettier girl he’s spotted at the back of the plane.

“Oh, my mistake,” he says, dismissing her. She looks disappointed as she walks away, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice as he turns his attention back to Sam. “All right, well, that’s got to be Amanda back there, so …” He leers. “I’ll go talk to her and, uh, I’ll get a read on her mental state.”

Which means, in Dean speak, 'get her into the bathroom and fuck her brains out'. Suddenly, Sam’s thinking that he might have been better off with Dean about one gentle roll of turbulence away from pissing himself.


End file.
